Our Past
by ElizaXSpears
Summary: This is going to be a series of little stories with child Alan and butler William. I hope you enjoy them.
1. Promise

**Promise**

He bit his lip at the top of the stairs, wondering if his father was done for the day. He knew making the man angry wouldn't be good, but he was so eager to show his father what he drew that he decided to take a chance.

Hopping down each step, pushing up his glasses that nearly fell off when he reached the bottom; he wandered to his father's study, slowly pushing the door open. "Papa?" the child asked, cautiously stepping in.

His father sat at his desk, working as he normally did. "What is it?"

He sounded irritated but the child swallowed, determined to not let the fear of his father get in the way of his excitement. "Papa." He stood by his father's chair. "I made this for you." He turned the picture around, holding it up for his father to see.

The man took a quick glance before returning to his work. "Alright."

"…but, papa. You didn't look at it." He tugged his father's arm. "Please look at it."

Sighing, the man turned to his son, taking the picture from his hands, examining it. It seemed to be a picture of him, his son and his wife who passed away two years ago, the child getting his chocolate hair from his mother. "Mm." he returned the picture to his son as he resumed his work.

The child frowned. "I made it for you."

"I know."

"D…Don't you want to keep it?"

His father gave another irritated sigh. "I don't have time for this right now boy. Let me get back to work."

The child's bottom lip quivered but he left the study as he was told too. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes. He swallowed the growing lump, but could no longer hold in his tears as he looked at the picture he drew. "Momma…"

"Alan?"

The boy looked up into the kind eyes of their family's butler. "…hello Mista William." He muttered.

William cocked his head, kneeling to the boy's height. "What's troubling you?"

"…papa doesn't love me anymore. He's too busy to play with me or take the drawing I made for him." He showed William what he drew. "See? That's daddy, that's me and that's momma." He pointed to each figure in the picture.

William took the drawing into his own hands, smiling at the child creative ability. "I'm sure your father will return to the way you remember him." He ran his fingers through Alan's hair. "You're a very talented artist."

Alan's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses. "Really?"

"If I do say so myself." He stood, taking Alan's hand. "Why don't you show me what else you drew?"

"That's it."

"Then why don't you give me a private lesson? I can't draw anything and I'd love to learn from an expert."

Alan wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his head. "I can do that." Though he glanced back at the study door. "…would papa like me to teach him to draw?"

William scooped Alan into his arms. "I'm sure one day you can. Your father is still dealing with-"

"Momma's death?"

"…yes."

Alan laid his head on William's shoulder. "Why did she go?"

"Because everyone has to someday."

"…even you?"

William sighed, holding Alan a little closer. "Even me."

"But…you can't leave. Mummy said you'd be with us forever."

"Your mother was right. I'll forever be with you just like your mother is now. Just, in here." He set his hand to Alan's chest. "In your heart. So long as you don't forget us, we are never truly gone."

Alan took William's hand. "I promise to never, ever, forget you or mummy…or daddy." He looked back at William with determined eyes. "I promise."


	2. Lessons

**Lessons**

Alan crossed his arms, his teacher giving another sigh of annoyance. "Come now sweetheart. It's not so hard."

"I don't wanna play." He said, pushing out his bottom lip. "I wanna draw."

"Your father wants you to learn piano. Do you want to disappoint him?"

"…no."

"Then please try? I promise, half an hour more and you'll be done."

Reluctantly unfolding his arms, Alan placed his fingers on the keys; hitting them unceremoniously creating unpleasant sounds that filled the music room. "Alan!" the teacher scolded taking his hands. "That's enough."

"But you said to play. That was playing, right?"

"That wasn't playing at all. That was noise." The teacher gently pushed Alan over a bit more so the teacher now sat in the middle of the piano. "Allow me to show you the basics." Threading his hands together and pushing them out to crack them, he began to show Alan how to play though the child constantly found other things to draw his eyes too. "Alan, are you listening?" the teacher asked.

"…yes." He frowned turning his attention back to the keys.

"If you fail to pay attention I'll have to speak with your father about this. He's paying me good money to teach you."

"But…he'll be angry if I don't learn."

"Then do try to pay attention." For the fifth time the teacher tried and once again Alan's eyes fell somewhere else. "Alan!"

The child jumped. "S-Sorry."

"That's it! My patience is through. I'm speaking to your father about this."

Before Alan could say another word, the teacher stormed off, the doors slamming shut behind him, the loud sound getting the attention of the family butler. "Alan?" William asked cracking open the door. "Are you alright in here?"

"Nu uh. Teachers gonna tell papa that I was bad." He fiddled with his hands. "But I don't wanna learn piano."

William walked to Alan. He lifted the boy into his arms, sat down and placed Alan on his lap. "Remember how you taught me to draw?"

"Uh huh."

"Well why don't I help you with your piano lessons?"

"You would?"

"Of course."

"Okay."

William smiled, taking Alan's small hands and placing them on the keys. "Alright. Just watch." Alan nodded, watching William move his hands over certain keys, teaching him about making the right sound and Alan nodded, watching intently every move William made. It was better leaning with someone he liked rather than the teacher who now stood in the doorway with his father. "But…he was horrible."

The man folded his arms. "Alan's a strong-willed child. He has his mother's personality for sure. When her mind was set on something, she either refused to do it or did it perfectly. It seems it's the same with Alan."

"But the butler-"

"Has been there for Alan since his mother's passing. My wife and William were quite good friends and I know her death still ways heavy on his heart, but he's there for Alan." He gave a small smile. "Almost like I used to be. But now that I have all this work, I can't be there for my boy like I want to anymore."

Hearing voices Alan turned his head. "Papa! William's teaching me to play!"

William paused to bow his head politely. "Master Humphries."

"William."

"I'll return to my-"

"No. Keep teaching Alan. You're doing a far better job."

William nodded, smiling. "Thank you master."

Alan smiled too, eager to return to learning. "Come. I have no need for you anymore." He said to the teacher.

William watched from the corner of his eye, the door close but he could have sworn he saw a smile.


	3. Nightmare

**Nightmare**

He lay in bed, blankets pulled up to his chin, watery eyes searching the dark room. He cried out for his father but no one came. The tears now rolled down his cheeks as he tried again for his father. Once again, no one came.

Knowing nothing would happen a third time, he gather his blanket tight around him then slid off his bed. Quietly cracking open the door, he looked up and down the hall for anyone. Seeing it clear, he stepped out, holding the blanket tighter. "Papa." He whispered, wiping an eye. He tried to be quick when entering his father's room but upon going to his father side of the bed he found no one there. "Papa? Papa!"

"Alan?"

Alan sniffled looking at the figure in the doorway illuminated by the candelabra the butler held. "William?"

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Alan walked to William, head bowed, blanket still tightly secured around him. "I had a bad dream."

William held out this hand to the child. "Why don't I tuck you and you can tell me what it was about."

Alan took William's hand, walking with him to his bedroom. "There was a monster and he took mummy from me then daddy too…where is daddy?"

"You're fathers away on a business trip, remember?"

"…uh huh."

They entered Alan's room, William placing the candelabra on the nightstand before lifting Alan into bed, taking the blanket from around him. "Get comfy." Alan obeyed, looking up to William with large eyes as William placed the blanket over the young boys body, tucking it in to the boys sides. "There. Are we all toasty warm now?"

"Will papa come back?"

William paused, blinking. He hadn't expected that question. "What do you mean? Of course your father will return."

"The monster won't get him?"

William smiled, stroking back Alan's bangs. "No. The monster isn't real. It won't come for him."

"Did the monster get mummy then?"

"No Alan. The monster didn't get mummy either."

"Then…what got mummy?"

"Illness."

Alan frowned. "Will I get sick too?"

"No, I can assure you." He stood, lifting the candelabra. "Now, do you need me to stay with you a little longer?"

"No."

"Alright. If you have another nightmare remember you can come to me at any time."

"Thank you William."

William gave a nod. "Goodnight Alan."

"Goodnight William." But as William began leaving, the candles light leaving as well, Alan began to shake. "William!"

William turned around, a question eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"I don't like the dark."

William smiled, an idea coming to mind. "I'll return momentarily." He was gone then back in seconds, a candle holder in his other hand. "This will help you." He said placing it down. "In fact, this one's special."

"Why?"

"Because it came from your mother."

"Mummy?"

"Yes. This was what your mother would use every night your father was away like he is now. It helped her sleep and always made her feel like her own mother was watching over her, protecting her from bad dreams." He pulled a candle from the candelabra, using its flame to light the candle in the holder. "There. Does this help?"

"Yes. Thank you William."

William smiled, leaning down to kiss Alan's forehead. "Now try to get some rest."

"Okay." Alan lay there, watching the door close behind William. Still shaken from his nightmare, he rolled over, watching the dancing flame, slowly a smile etching onto his lips. "Mummy's gonna protect me." He closed his eyes, let out a calming breath. "Goodnight mummy." He said before returning to sleep, no nightmares to be had.

* * *

Yep, uh huh. Another one done. Yep. I hate the 'X' button. It's stuck on this keyboard and took me literally a minute to try and get it to work! Gah!


	4. Attic

**Attic**

His father was angry. He had been playing in the music room, the snow outside making it far too cold to run around outside so he resorted to the second biggest room in the manor. While running around, playing with his imagination, his foot caught on the leg of the grand piano causing him to tumble forward and fall into the violin set in the corner of the room, often being cleaned by the maids as his father denied anyone from touching it. It was his mother's old violin and now it had been broken. His father heard the noise and when he saw the mess, his eyes told Alan to run, which he did.

He didn't know if his father was still looking for him as he hid in the attic of their manor, but he didn't want to chance it. If anything, he wanted William to come and tell him everything was alright, that his father calmed down.

Wiping his tears on his sleeve, he crawled further back in the attic, trying to be quiet so no one heard him from below. The first time he hid up here, he found no one at come to check inside and found this to be his special hiding place as not even William had come to look for him up here yet.

He sat down beside an old black trunk, knees pulled to his chest, eyes trained on the trunk. He always saw when he came up but not once opened it, perhaps he should do so. Making sure to move quietly again, he knelt at the front of the truck and unlatching the lock before pushing up the lid. Inside, he found dusty books, letters, a folded dress and a doll he picked up from the bottom of the truck. The doll's brown string hair was nearly black, a few strands gone, a button eye missing, the dress worn, but he didn't put it back in. Instead, he set the doll on his lap, continuing to search the trunk until plucking out a male doll that almost looked like his father and in the same condition as the female doll. He sat back, holding out the two dolls side by side a question frown forming. "Momma?" he asked looking at the female doll. He set them back on his lap to pull out the dress which matched perfectly to the doll.

Thinking he found the greatest treasure in the world, he placed the dress and male doll back in the trunk then ran to the entrance of the attic. "Papa!" he called climbing down the letter. "Daddy?!"

Alan flinched as he names was called, his father still angry over the mess he created. "Do you have any idea how priceless that was?!"

"Look!" he held up the doll he kept close to his chest. "I founded her in the attic."

His father paused, staring at the doll with disbelieving eyes. "Alan." He knelt to his son's height, taking the doll into his hands. "Where did you find this?"

"In the attic. There's a boy doll and a dress."

"Show me."

So Alan reentered the attic, his father following. He led the man to the trunk and pulled out the male doll. "See."

"Alan." He took the male doll, a tear forming in the man's eyes. "Where the dress?"

"Here." He pulled it out, handing it to his father. "Was this mummy's?"

The man knelt, placing the dolls down to take the dress. "Yes. This was your mothers. She wore it on our wedding day and these dolls were made for us."

"Why didn't daddy know about them?"

"Because your mother told me she'd place them somewhere safe. She…left before telling me where that safe place was." He dug through the rest of the chest, taking out a few letters that he sent her when they were younger. "She kept all of this."

Alan took a box form the bottom of the trunk and opened that to pull out a picture of a newborn Alan, sitting on his mother's lap, his father standing proudly behind them. "Why did she hide all this?"

"I'm sure she never meant too. Her passing was sudden for all of us." He took out another photo of his late wife and William. "They were close. Almost siblings."

"Mummy's safe now, right?"

"Yes." He put his arm around his son, pulling Alan close, all anger forgotten. "Your mother's safe now."

"William told me she was here." Alan put his hand over his heart.

"She is, Alan. Your mothers there and will always look out for you."

As the snow fell outside, Alan and his father spent the rest of the day in the attic, looking through the old trunk, Alan enjoying the stories his father told about his mother. It was rare to see his father smile since her passing, but today was the perfect day to stay indoors.


End file.
